Poetry

Poetry

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  • Beyond Palatable – Roger Linnett
  • The Man! – Essembe Sone Massoua
  • Do I Really Care? – krista schwimmer
  • For Dr. John – Mary Getlein
  • Vanishing – Sherman Pearl
  • How will it be? – Jim Smith

————

Beyond Palatable
(a haiku)

Shrimps in mole’ sauce
Oysters Rockefeller-ized
Gulf of Much-sorrow

– Roger Linnett

——-

The Man!

By Essombe Sone Massoua

Treachery and deception started it
A life spent on the edge of lies.
No wonder mankind feels uncomfortable.
Cause they hide and camouflage
We started crusades of perdition
Hazardly disregarding the feelings of the common man
Morality is at its lowest. Our fear skyrockets.
A society in an advanced stage of decay.
Pungent smells of decadence fill the air
I can’t stay here no more. It’s tainted with blood.
Nothing holds me back, it’s a screw-up situation.
Staying means dying, leaving offers an opportunity.
To find a place and make hay again.
Maybe start afresh, a clean slate.
On which to clear the air from this foul
and vile transgression.

——

Do I Really Care?

i’m not sure why
people i barely know believe
i care so much for them.
i’ve noticed that
if i simply pay attention
and remain seated
in my entire body
people near by wake up
& cling to me.

It’s not that i don’t care
either or that i’m indifferent (yet).
i simply like being here.
Please, do not mistake
this gesture for concern.
i certainly haven’t in you
& still spend much of my time
alone & sweetly content.

– krista schwimmer

——

For Dr. John

By Mary Getlein

I will, said Dr. John.
Who will laugh?
I will, said Dr. John.
I’m hungry, who will help me?
I will, said Dr. John.
I’m scared and a runaway,
I’m lonely and homeless,
who will help me?
It’s okay, I’m homeless too said Dr. John.
Who will listen to my troubles,
when I am sad and blue?
I will, said Dr. John.
Who will love me?
I will, said Dr. John.
Dr. John was our bodisattva,
our barefoot sadhu.
When he was lying in the grass,
by the library, people would come by
and talk to him, and receive love and
understanding.
He loved music and dancing on the Broadwalk.
He would dance, dance, dance and then
thank you for dancing too.
He was living the life of Jesus,
living a life of bliss, day by day.
He was our magical friend – so cheerful
and happy to see you.
Young people and chilldren loved him.
At his memorial, there were so many
stories of his loving kindness.
Thank you Dr. John, for dancing with us.
We will keep dancing,
and keep the spirit alive –
Your heart will keep us all warm.
Thank you for your Life!
Love,
Mary

——

VANISHING

News Item: Tiny Island Sinks

Off Indian Coast

Next trip, let’s visit the Bay of Bengal

where the ocean consumes land in small bites.

We’ll hop from one submerged islet to the next,

finally stop at a speck the tour book omits.

Its name is Forgotten, its name is Farewell

and its high point juts from the water

for a last longing look.  If we hurry

we’ll get there while it’s still above the surface.

We’ll stand on the peak

while the tide creeps up the hillside

and we ourselves start to turn into islands.

It’s name is Remember, its name is Beware.

Before water washes it out of our maps

we’ll watch it become a garden

of fishes and ferns, algae greening the rubble.

We’ll sing the national anthem of that

immemorial rock.  We’ll gather seashells

as souvenirs, photograph stones as they sink.

— Sherman Pearl

——

How will it be?
By Jim Smith

How will it be
in the far future?
when everyone is a poet
when everyone is a lover
when everyone is a musician
when everyone is a philosopher
when everyone is a silver-tongued orator

and no one is
sad,
poor,
violent,
hungry,
depressed,

How will it be?
Pretty damn good!

Categories: Poetry